


i'm shining like fireworks over your sad empty town

by LittleLostStar



Series: Your Love is My Drug [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, It's the return of the John Mayer Saga fam, Sex Toys, Stoner!Victor, Stoner!Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLostStar/pseuds/LittleLostStar
Summary: Yuuri can be forgiven for not putting very much thought into the fact that the doorbell is ringing at seven at night on a Saturday. He is not at fault for padding down the hall to the front door and pulling it open without checking the peephole first. After all, who bothers to check when it’s obviously the Amazon delivery guy? No one’s going to answer the door for Amazon and pretend that they haven’t just smoked a blunt of high-quality Buddha kush in preparation for a night of giggling at cat videos and stuffing one’s face with chocolate covered cookie dough balls. That would just be silly.But here’s the thing.When Yuuri opens the door, a ‘thank you’ already on his lips, what he sees instead are two bleach-blonde women with spray tans and wedge heels. One of them is holding a box.“Hi, Yuuri!” one of them chirps, and in that moment Yuuri Katsuki hears the whirring of battle helicopters as he’s thrown violently into a flashback that consumes his entire soul, and as he mentally scrambles to stay on this mortal plane he hears himself sputter ten words that have been haunting him for nearly a year:“...John Mayer never once stepped foot on that goddamn bridge.”





	i'm shining like fireworks over your sad empty town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookyfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/gifts).



> I wrote this because I love Spooky, and wanted to make her laugh <3 I hope it makes you laugh too. She's an incredible writer and you should go [follow her](http://spookyfoot.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> As usual: don't smoke weed if it's illegal or you're underage.

Here’s the thing. 

Victor didn’t grow up celebrating Christmas. As a lapsed Reform Jew, born on December 25th to Russian parents who weren’t big about celebrating birthdays in general, he grew up without riding that rollercoaster of excitement that comes from knowing the things you want, looking at a pile of unlabeled boxes begging to be ripped open, and learning if you’ve been given something truly awesome from someone who loves you. 

Yuuri gets it. He really does. Victor grew up on the outside, always looking in, helpless but to distantly observe one of the most important days of the year for most of the population. And now he’s a grown-up with money and an Amazon Prime account, and has been given the luxury of clicking a single button and receiving whatever he wants within a day. It’s really not a surprise, then, that Victor has a minor habit of smoking himself into the eighth dimension and ordering random shit from the internet; in fact, it’s one of his most endearing traits, because the best part of waking up is not, in fact, Folgers in your cup, but is instead watching Victor’s face as he unwraps the presents that Stoned Victor bought the night before. And because Stoned Victor is a generous and kind person (of course he is, he’s Sober Victor just with less of an emotional filter), those presents often include items for Yuuri as well. 

So Yuuri can be forgiven for not putting very much thought into the fact that the doorbell is ringing at seven at night on a Saturday. He is not at fault for padding down the hall to the front door and pulling it open without checking the peephole first. After all, who bothers to check when it’s obviously the Amazon delivery guy? No one’s going to answer the door for Amazon and pretend that they haven’t just smoked a blunt of high-quality Buddha kush in preparation for a night of giggling at cat videos and stuffing one’s face with chocolate covered cookie dough balls. That would just be silly. 

But here’s the thing. 

When Yuuri opens the door, a ‘thank you’ already on his lips, what he sees instead are two bleach-blonde women with spray tans and wedge heels. One of them is holding a box. 

“Hi, Yuuri!” one of them chirps, and in that moment Yuuri Katsuki hears the whirring of battle helicopters as he’s thrown violently into a flashback that consumes his entire soul, and as he mentally scrambles to stay on this mortal plane he hears himself sputter ten words that have been haunting him for nearly a year: 

“...John Mayer never once stepped foot on that goddamn bridge.” 

The girls blink at Yuuri. Yuuri blinks back at the girls. They blink at him again. He blinks back. It’s a feedback loop of human 404 pages, just an unending stretch of time where Yuuri hears nothing but television static and sees nothing but recombinatory projections of John Mayer scattering across his mind like an out-of-control Windows 95 fatal error message. A geologic eon passes like that, or at least it seems that way, and just as Yuuri’s waiting for the meteor to strike and obliterate them all, Victor strolls up to the door and his face lights up with complete joy. 

“Oh my god!” he squeals. “Virginia! Dakota! You made it! And you have...wait, do you also work for Amazon? Because I have some questions—”

The girl holding the box giggles. “No, silly,” she chides, pushing the box into Yuuri’s hands as she and her friend brush past him into the house. “We passed by the delivery guy as he was leaving this on your stoop.” 

“Oh, then, fantastic!” Victor replies, completely oblivious to the fact that his boyfriend is essentially a blue screen of death. “Yuuri, close the door and come hang out!” 

As the girls disappear down the hall and into the living room, Yuuri finally regains enough of his mental faculties to reach out and grab Victor’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Victor.” 

Victor’s eyes soften. “Yes, my love?”

Yuuri blinks again, and wonders how many times he’s blinked throughout his life. Probably a lot. He could count the number of blinks he has in one minute and then multiply that by the rough number of waking minutes he’s experienced so far, and  _ how did that song go? ‘Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred miii-nutes...five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear,’ oh god damn it now I’ve got that stuck in my head—   _

“...Yuuri?” 

He blinks again.  _ Fuck, I’ve lost count. Five hundred tw—  _

Victor snaps his fingers in front of Yuuri’s face, finally pulling him back to this plane of reality. “Hey. Hon. You alright?” 

“Victor,” Yuuri replies, “what the fuck is happening?” 

Victor is somehow less than empathetic to the deep spiritual earthquake that’s shaken the very core of Yuuri’s soul, because he tilts his head to the side the way he does when confused and/or trying to imitate a pug. “...right now?” 

“Yes, right now. What—why are they here? And,” Yuuri gestures to the box in his arms, “what the fuck is this?” 

Victor looks down, then back up, and then bursts out laughing. “Y’know, damndest thing, I have no idea!” he grins. “I guess I went on a shopping spree last night. I also texted Virginia and Dakota because it’s been  _ forever _ since we all hung out together. We haven’t seen them since the John Mayer concert! Didn’t you get my—” his face falls, and Yuuri sighs like he’s holding the weight of the world in his arms instead of a box of what are probably cute tea infusers shaped like dinosaurs and novelty T-shirts that say things like “I Hope Your Day Is As Nice As My Ass" and “Writing Porn: It Comes Easily." 

“You forgot to text me.” 

The look on Victor’s face would be infuriating if it wasn’t so effective. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, leaning in to peck Yuuri on the cheek. “I totally forgot. Is it okay if the girls join us tonight?” 

Yuuri casts a look down the hall, where he can hear Dakota and Virginia giggling away already. He sighs. 

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “But for god’s sake please tell me who is who, I never figured it out and now it’s too late to ask.” 

Victor breaks out his award-winning Blue Ribbon smile. “Sure,” he replies warmly. “Dakota has the white blonde hair, and Virginia has the cream blonde hair.” 

And with that he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Yuuri helpless but to follow, trying to untwist the Lament configuration he’s been given involving hair dye shades and the sneaking suspicion that he may not actually be able to tell white people apart. 

_ And the worst thing _ , he growls to himself,  _ is that now I’ll have to share my snacks. _

~

Neither Arkansas nor Mississippi has become a stoner in the interim months ( _ so much for being a Bad Gay Influence _ , Yuuri thinks), so the first order of business is to get the girls properly high. Victor is already hard at work packing their beautiful bong (blown glass decorated with octopus tentacles, an anniversary gift from Chris) with weed and stacking ice cubes into the main pipe to cool down and condense the smoke. Yuuri kneels on the carpet on the other side of the coffee table, and puts the box down just in time to receive the bong. The nice thing about being high on a Saturday night is that if you’re normally an anxiety-riddled perfectionist you magically transform into someone who can do the seemingly impossible and just go with the flow. 

“Anyway,” Victor is saying, “that John Mayer concert was the first time that Yuuri and I said the L-word! It was so great.” 

“ _ Victor _ ,” Yuuri mumbles, feeling his cheeks get hot as the rest of his protest disappears under the ear-splitting shrieks of joy from their guests. 

“What?! It’s true!” 

Dakota (fuck it, Yuuri’s just assigning them names, it’s a 50/50 shot he’s right) takes a rip of the bong and her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk. Virginia’s eyes are already bright red. 

“Can we turn on music?” she blurts, as if she’s only just discovered the very concept of it. Victor grins and pulls out his phone. 

“What do you want?” 

_ Please god no John Mayer, _ Yuuri prays.  _ Anyone but John Mayer.  _

“TSwift!” Virginia answers. “Only not the new album. Put on Taylor Classic.” 

And this is when Yuuri has a grand cosmic epiphany, as can only be created by tetrahydrocannabinol inhaled in not-insignificant amounts. 

“It’s New Coke all over again,” he says, only a little bit disappointed when streamers don’t explode out of the couch cushions accompanied by a fanfare from on high. 

“It’s what?” Dakota replies.

Yuuri presses his fingers to his temples, miming that mind-blown gif that Chris likes a lot. “I’m going to put money on this right now,” he declares. “The new TSwift album and her whole ‘the old Taylor is dead’ schtick is going to pave way for a return to Taylor Classic, as managed by, wait for it...Kim Kardashian-West.” 

It’s moments like these when Yuuri wonders why he doesn’t smoke weed all the time, because it’s  _ brilliant _ . No one would see it coming. In a world where corporate giants like Denny’s and Wendy’s compete to have the most relatable Twitter account and World War Three could kick off in 280 characters or less, the only thing that makes sense is the thing that makes the  _ least  _ sense. 

This bombshell of a revelation is met with silence and confused glances. As the picoseconds stretch into nanoseconds, Yuuri realizes with dawning horror that  _ this _ is why he doesn’t smoke weed all the time.  _ Oh, god, someone please say something, _ Yuuri begs silently. Finally Victor reaches into his front jeans pocket, fishing around for what seems to Yuuri like a terrifically embarrassingly long time. 

“You’re on,” Victor says, his pocket fishing expedition concluded, and he plunks a single penny onto the coffee table. 

The girls giggle; Yuuri physically deflates with relief. Part of the fun of dating Victor is being able to let his inner stoner chatterbox run free, but the presence of two actual states from the lower 48 is stressing him out somewhat. He reaches for the chips. 

“Virginia, tell me,” Victor says, turning to the girl at his left, and Yuuri nearly chokes on a Dorito because  _ holy shit I picked right?? Wow. Should I play the lottery? No, that’s silly. That’s not how numbers work—  _

“...your feelings on ‘Dear John?’”

Yuuri blinks. He’s completely missed the bulk of Victor’s question, but he knows a reference to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Or-Invoked-During-Intercourse-No-Seriously-Victor-Not-Even-As-A-Joke-This-Is-How-Impotence-Issues-Begin when he hears one. Klaxon bells shaped like random bridge props start going off in Yuuri’s head. 

Virginia has snapped to attention with all the sass that a white girl with a spray tan and wedge sandals can muster. 

“Oh my  _ god _ , don’t even get me  _ started  _ on ‘Dear John,’” she says. 

“Okay then!” Yuuri interrupts, desperate to do something— _ anything _ —else. He pulls his keys out of his jeans pocket and uses one to rip through the tape on top of the Amazon box by his side. “Let’s see what’s in here—” He wrestles the flaps open, turning the box over to dump its contents onto the coffee table, and—

The room goes silent, and Victor chokes on his mouthful of smoke, doubling over in a coughing fit.  

“Oh, how cute,” Dakota says. “Are those...statues?”

Yuuri tosses the box across the room and can finally see what’s in front of him, and—it’s dildos. 

Like, a  _ lot _ of dildos. 

Yuuri blinks ( _ add one tick to the total, _ he notes). His brain escapes his body, ascending to another plane of reality where he’s not staring at a  _ pile of dildos  _ on his coffee table in the presence of two unnervingly identical girls he met at the dorkiest concert of all time. One of the dildos begins to rumble, moving across the coffee table like a wind-up cat toy.

“Well well  _ well _ ,” comes a voice from behind him. “What have we here?” 

_ Yes, of course Chris would pick this moment to come home, _ Yuuri thinks.  _ It’s okay. Just kill me where I stand, God. I get it. I’ve violated Leviticus enough times and taken your name in vain and have worn more cloth blends than I probably realized. It’s my time. _

Victor looks from Yuuri, up to Chris, back to Yuuri, then down to the pile of lightly wobbling marital aids, and bursts out laughing. Dakota and Virginia join him, followed by Chris, as Yuuri kneels on the carpet surrounded by cackling and feels like a sacrificial lamb. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor gasps as tears stream down his rapidly reddening face. “I completely definitely forgot about these. Um. Happy 18-month anniversary? I…” Victor reaches over and picks up the first dildo, examining it with a professional frown, while Yuuri tries to spontaneously combust. 

“Victor, darling, I’m pleased you brought enough to share with the entire class,” Chris purrs, sitting down beside Yuuri and picking up a twisted lump of bright purple silicone. “Though some of these are...is this one not made by and for lesbians?” 

Yuuri’s whole relationship with time and space has radically shifted due to a combination of drugs and embarrassment, but he’s also the type of nerd who can’t let a trivia factoid go unspoken. “Yes,” he blurts before he can stop himself. “That’s for lesbians.” 

Chris arches an eyebrow, brandishing the dildo like a sapphic sword. “And how do you know this?” 

Yuuri blanches, grabbing tufts of carpet in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright. “Please don’t ask,” he begs, desperate to avoid any further humiliations which will surely transform him to a highly concentrated balsamic reduction of shame. Out of the corner of his eye Yuuri sees Victor’s eyes narrow. 

“Wait, isn’t your sister...?”

Yuuri would genuinely rather be seducing John Mayer than having this conversation. “Yes-my-sister-is-gay-Victor,” he mumbles, hoping he won’t be understood, but Dakota’s eyes widen. 

“Oh…” 

There isn’t enough air on the planet to sustain the exhalation Yuuri requires to bounce back from that. “Yeah,” he replies, mentally throwing up his hands at the idea of ever salvaging his pride. “That was a Christmas I’d rather forget.” 

“There are two of these U-shaped ones!” Virginia chirps, either because she’s a smooth motherfucker or because she has no idea what’s happening, and with the strain they’ve smoked it’s honestly a toss-up. 

Victor gasps, covering is mouth and nose with his hands. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs, the sound muffled. “I remember why I did this.” He plucks the dildo from Chris’ hand and sets it down on the table, and begins arranging them around like a goddamn  _ Myst _ puzzle. Yuuri watches, frozen and fascinated, as Victor works away, finally sitting back with a triumphant smile, clearly proud of his work. 

Yuuri looks down at the coffee table. Victor has arranged the dildos so that they spell out Y, u, u, r, and i. The ‘r’ dildo is still vibrating. 

“You...spelled out my name with dildos?” 

Victor actually blushes. “Um. Yes? Are you mad?” 

Yuuri opens his mouth, because  _ yes, _ but then he closes it. The real answer is  _ no _ . He’s not mad. Because here’s the thing. 

“I love you,” he finally says, ignoring the  _ aww _ sounds from the peanut gallery. “And I never want you to stop being you. But I’m also going to bed, and when I wake up, this is going to be a hilarious story about a trippy dream I had, because I got majorly distracted while watching porn. Are we clear?” 

Victor nods; Dakota and Virginia look puzzled; Chris snorts with laughter. 

Yuuri stands up. “Then with all of that said, I bid you all goodnight. We will never speak of this again.” 

He’s not two steps out of the living room before he pulls out his phone and opens the Amazon app, navigating to the section that they call ‘Health and Personal Care’, and placing an order for a 55 gallon drum of lube. 

_ Game on, Victor, _ Yuuri grins to himself as he falls into bed.  _ If you want to play, then let’s play. _

~

“And that,” Yuuri sighs three weeks later, his phone cradled to his ear, while Chris tries and fails to look angry and Victor lies on the floor gasping with laughter, “is why I’d like to cancel my Amazon Prime account.”

The customer service woman refunds him completely. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated! 
> 
> I write many more things on [Tumblr](http://iwritevictuuri.tumblr.com/), so let's hang out.


End file.
